In flagrante delicto
by kouw
Summary: Della walks down memory lane after having been caught red-handed


And this, Della thought, was why she tried to avoid any shenanigans in the office.

She was sitting on the big desk in the main office, her skirt hiked around her waist, her garters showing for all the world to see and her employer firmly wedged between her knees, his trousers at his ankles. His hand was deftly unbuttoning her blouse and his arm was wrapped around her to steady her.

They'd been working on a brief and when she came around his side of the desk to point something out, his wandering hands had landed on her bum and well… they might be old but they were not dead.

Which was something Paul Drake junior was now witnessing.

Her godson was standing in the door opening, his hands hiding his eyes and a strangled cry was just audible as it passed his lips. He turned around quickly and slammed the door shut, the window vibrating in its' sill.

Della pushed away her lover and scrambled to her feet, pulling her skirt down and quickly buttoning her blouse. Perry was hoisting up his trousers and grumbled as he fastened his belt.

"Paul? Paul!" Della called out as she made her way to the smaller side office that was officially her domain. She found Paul in her chair, cradling his head in his hands, swaying back and forth.

She lightly put her hand on his shoulder, but he didn't look up.

"Really, Paul…" she chided him gently.

Still no response.

"You know this isn't the first time you've walked in on us, don't you? And you weren't so squeamish then."

He straightened then. "Not the first time? And I am not being squeamish! Nobody wants to see their… well… whatever you two are… like that. No-one. Ever."

Della leaned against her desk and smiled softly. "The other time you walked in on us, you were a little boy. Your father used to ask me to babysit sometimes, when he was on a case."

Paul nodded. "I remember. You'd make mashed potatoes and applesauce for me…"

"So I did! We would watch television far beyond your bedtime, and I'd make you popcorn and you'd snuggle up."

For a moment, Della was lost in thought, staring into the distance. She remembered Paul - or Junior as he was called then - in his light blue checked pajamas, curled up on her couch. She loved having him with her and she would mother him a bit and spoil him a lot. He would put his head against her arm and yawn adorably. With Paul and Perry away chasing some prime suspect or evidence nobody knew of, she would look after little Paul and not mind being left behind too much. Then, when she would put him in bed and he'd drowsily tell her "I love you so much, Della", her heart would practically explode.

"One evening, you must have been six, or not quite six, you had fallen asleep during Flipper and you were simply too tall for me to pick up and move to the spare bedroom. I tucked you in on the couch with your teddy and left the light in the hall on. Your father was still chasing a lead when Perry came back," she cleared her throat; it still wasn't easy admitting a public secret.

Paul smirked knowingly. "To go over the results of their wild goose chase, no doubt."

Della swallowed and pulled up her right shoulder. "Something like that … welll, I don't know if it was the noise,"

Paul groaned with a look of disgust on his face and Della kicked his shin softly with her stiletto heel before continuing:

"Or maybe you had a bad dream, but suddenly there you were, next to the bed saying "Hullo, Perry" and I think the poor man almost had a heart attack."

Now, it iwa Paul who smiled. "Serves him right!" Then he frowned.

"I don't remember any of this. I mean: I think I remember crawling into bed with you and that he might have been there …"

Della nodded. "You did that a lot, but mostly not until morning!"

"What is it that he used to say… something like …"

The door to the office swung open and Perry walked through, his tread heavy, but not looking much the worse for wear. He looked at Paul, then at Della and then at Paul again before shaking his head.

"Just like your dad, coming in at the most inopportune moment."

"That's it. That's what he said back then."

Della chuckled. "Do you remember anything else?"

Perry's hand landed lightly on her shoulder and together they watched Paul - who is so like his father, hiding a sad loneliness behind jokes and flattery.

"Perry would … he would tickle me and you would save me and you'd cuddle me." Paul spoke slowly as the memories returned.

"We'd put on robes, but Perry would wear clothes and he'd… I think he made me pancakes sometimes. Or waffles. No. Pancakes."

"You applauded when I flipped them in the air," Perry offered and he squeezed Della's upper arm softly.

"And then we'd sit and have breakfast together."

There was a moment of silence, which was broken by Perry.

"Not a bad idea. Come on, you two. I am buying you lunch."

Paul jumped up from his seat and somehow Della found herself in an embrace with her boss.

"Yeah, you used to do that a lot, too. Seems nothing much has changed these past twenty-something years."

But Perry and Della barely registered his words, lost as they were, too, in decades of memories they made together.

"Guys! Stoppit! There's a kid in the room!"

AN: thank you Hogwarts Duo for giving this the once over. Furthermore: I am posting this from the car (passenger) so erm… yeah. Glaring mistakes might prevail...


End file.
